Slightly Twisted
by ragingfangirl
Summary: You've all seen the Sherlock Series. But how would you like it with the plot Slightly Twisted?
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N) Oh my god! First fic, so excited! I've always loved writing and This idea has been buzzing around in my head for MONTHS on end now, so really happy to get it up. I apologize for any mistakes in advance, for there are bound to be some here and there. I'm only young, remember. Don't be mean. This story is rated T because I'm paranoid, and for possible (Almost definite.) bad language. Enough blabbering though, On with the story!**

Molly winced as she watched the corpse being beaten. Lash after lash from the whip in the man's hand. The man in question, had dark curly hair, ice-like eyes, and a very handsome angular face. Eventually, the man stopped his lashing.  
"Remind me what that was for?" Said Molly.

"I'm measuring the development of bruises after death." Came the curt reply.

"Are you wearing lipsitck?"He asked

The man turned around and began to look in a microscope sitting on a table in the morgue.  
Molly looked at him, for quite a while at that. After a few minutes, the man looked up from whatever seemed to be so interesting and faced Molly.

"Is there a problem?" He asked coldly.

"W-what? Um, no," Stuttered Molly, snapping out of her daze. "I was just wondering if you would like to have some coffee-"  
The man cut her off:

"Black, two sugars. I'll be in the lab upstairs." He smiled, and swiftly left the room.  
'Only Sherlock Holmes.' Thought Molly, disappointed.

Dr John Watson had recently return from Afghanistan. He had been seeing a therapist ever since he returned to London. She thought that John was scarred from the war. That he was suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. But she was severely wrong. John wasn't scarred from the war. He didn't realise it, but he missed it. He longed to be back on the battlefield. Little did he know, there was plenty of excitement in store for him, and it all started with meeting an old colleague.

John had been strolling leisurely through the park, when he heard a faintly familiar voice.  
"John? Good God John is that you?" The voice had said.  
John spun around, to face the owner of the voice. Mike Stamford, he and John had gone to college together. They talked for a while and went for coffee. Topics were things like, how John had injured his leg and how Mike had gotten fat.

Then,John brought up something he had been thinking about.

"Do you know where I can get a cheap flat?" John asked. "I'm looking to find a place to stay, and I can't get very far on an army pension."  
Mike Stamford had replied;

"I think I know someone just right for you. There's a guy I know who's looking for a flatmate,you know, to split the rent."

"That sounds great!" Exclaimed John. "Do you know where I can find him?"

"I think I know where he is. Come with me, I'll take you to him." Replied Mike. "I warn you though, he's a bit odd."  
And so the two men set off to find this man.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N) Hi! The Twist will be coming before a Study in Pink has finished, so sit tight! I want to thank LunarAquaGirl, for being the best friend ever. She is so supportive! Reviews always welcome! ;)**

Mike and John soon arrived at their destination, Bart's Hospital. Mike led John to a lab of sorts, where a man sat dripping various fluids into a vial. He looked like he hadn't acknowledged their presence. Suddenly, the man spoke.

"Mike can I borrow your phone?" He said in a baritone voice. "No signal on mine."

"What's wrong with the landline?" Inquired Mike.

"I prefer to text." The man replied coldly.

"Sorry. It's in my pocket." Said Mike.

"Uh, here, use mine." Suggested John and held out his phone to the man.

"Ah. Thank you." Said the man, accepting the phone.

"This is John Watson, an old friend of mine." Said Mike, gesturing at the army doctor.

The man did not look up from his text, but instead said:

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Sorry?" John was confused. How did this strange man know?

"Afghanistan or Iraq, which was it?" The man repeated.

"Afghanistan, how did you kn-" John was cut off by the arrival of a woman in her early thirties with light brown hair entering the room.

"Ah, Molly. Coffee, Thank you." Said this odd man, taking a cup of coffee from the woman 'Molly'.

He frowned for a second.

"What happened to the lipstick?" Asked the man.

"Uh, it wasn't working for me." Replied Molly shyly.

The man raised a single thin eyebrow.

"Really?" He said. "I thought it was a big improvement. Lips are too small now."

This man was extremely rude, but Molly seemed oblivious to that. She was quite obviously begotten with this tall, shady man.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Asked the man suddenly.

"Sorry, what?" Asked John.

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for _days _on end but that wouldn't bother you would it?"

John shot the man a confused look.

"Potential flat-mates should know the worst about each other, don't you think?"

"Alright, who told you about me?" Jon asked. there was no way in hell that this man could know all this by looking at him, was there?

"Nobody." The man replied.

"And who said anything about flat-mates?"

"I did." The man replied. "I was talking to Mike this morning and I said that I must be a very hard person to find a roommate for."

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" Asked John.

The man avoided the question,he was putting on a long coat an wrapping a blueish-grey scarf around his neck.

"There's a nice place up in central London, I think we can afford it together. Meet me there at 7 o' clock tomorrow." The man started to walk towards the door. "Sorry, got to dash, have to get my riding crop."

"Wait, so that's it." Said John. The man wheeled around and looked impatient.

"So that's what?"

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat together?"

"Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know where we're meeting, I don't even know your name."

The man grinned.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes, and the address is 221B Bakers Street." And with a smile and a wink, Sherlock Holmes swept from the room.


End file.
